Healing Hands
by Berytni
Summary: After a tragic accident on the night of their break up, how will Emmett and Bay rebuild their relationship when Emmett's primary use of communication is jeopardized.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I got this idea after catching up with Switched at Birth, and the plot bunny kept nagging at me to write, so I thought I'd give it a try. Thanks for reading, enjoy, and let me know what you think. Hopefully, more to come soon!  
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Shaking in my little black shoes from a combination of anger and the crisp air, I stood alone in the parking lot as I watched the motorcycle helmet; given to me mere hours before, sink to the bottom of the dark pond water. I crisscrossed tightly against my chest, only unbinding them to reach up and wipe a tear away from my cheek; swiping it away before sniffling and looking down at the pavement. Like the helmet, I felt my heart sink into my abdomen. Over my shoulder, I looked back with swollen eyes at Carlton's prom. Lights flashed from the windows, silhouettes of dancers swayed behind the walls, and music continued to blare from the venue. Squeezing my eyes shut, I thought about how I could have still been in there dancing in his arms without knowing his secret – the same arms that held Simone in the most intimate way. Suddenly, I felt dirty…like I had slept with her too. My head quickly filled with more traumas, bringing my heart from my abdomen to the back of my throat. I wanted to sob, I wanted to scream, I wanted to punch a wall, but most of all, I wanted to leave. However, there was no going back inside to get a ride home, I would have had to explain the situation, or worse run into Emmett, and I just wanted it all to be over.

I started for the opening in the black fancy gate that surrounded the property. Riding in with Emmett, I remembered coming in from the left, but my mind was in too much of a frenzy to remember anything else. Walking was out of the question anyways, but that had only just struck me. I let out an aggravated sigh and turned around to walk back down the driveway, but the sound of a vehicle coming down the otherwise deserted road stopped me dead in my tracks. That was my ticket home. I trotted out to the side of the road and started to walk backwards with my right arm out and thumb pointed up.

"_Please stop, please stop_," I mumbled to myself.

The vehicle approached slowly and came to a stop about five feet in front of me. I shielded my eyes because of the truck's high beams, but the driver switched them off and waved me over to the passenger side.

"Where ya headed, miss?" the male driver asked, manually rolling down the window.

"M-Mission Hills," I nervously answered, already regretting my decision to hail down the stranger.

"I should'a guessed, you dressed up so nicely and such. Humph, it's outta my way but, hmmm, how old are you?"

"Sixteen," I replied.

"Christ, what are you doin' out so late dressed like that?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Oh…"

"No, no, not that. No. Umm…I…"

"Get in."

"What?" I asked, bombarded by embarrassment.

"Get in, I'll take you home. The name's Steve."

"Bay," I said opening the passenger door and climbing inside the ratty farm truck.

My mother would have killed me; both mothers would have killed me, but like my general approach towards life – what they don't know won't hurt them. I sat and watched the world pass by as the stranger, known as Steve, drove me home. I'd be lying if I told you I felt completely safe, but as I recognized land marks from the drive with Emmett, I felt more secure. Emmett. The fear of getting kidnapped and massacred by a pick-up truck driver named Steve blanketed the whole situation I was trying to escape. Emmett cheated on me; he cheated on me with my childhood rival. I should have known it was too good to be true. God forbid, I have _one_ good, normal thing come from the whole switched at birth fiasco. I felt the tears start to come back, and I looked up at the roof of the car in an attempt to suck them back in, but they rolled down my cheeks at their own free will, and I cried to myself until we hit Mission Hills. There was nothing to distract me from my thoughts. The only thing that came relatively close was an on duty ambulance that emerged though the darkness, and vanished as fast as it appeared in the opposite direction. Seconds later, I disappeared back into the hell inside my head.

I was dropped off at the foot of my driveway, and I awkwardly offered the man a few bucks for his trouble. The kind stranger drove off quickly, for the eyesore of the truck was very much out of place for the top scale development. Despite having the whole house to myself, I went straight to my studio. Upon pushing up the garage door, the lights came on, and I walked inside – gradually stepping out of my heals. I approached my painting in process with the intention of getting lost in the colors. With one hand I turned on some music and with the other, destroyed my fancy hair style to simply pull it back into a ponytail. Then I took a paintbrush from the pickle jar adjacent my easel, placed the handle between my teeth, and reached for the jacket on the floor because it was extra chilly in the garage. I wrapped the familiar jacket around myself and pushed my arms though the sleeves. However, despite the warmth, something felt off. My eyes traced the sleeves down my arms and off my fingertips, and over my left breast was a Carlton iron-on patch.

Dropping my paint brush, I screamed, and violently stood up off my stool, letting it crash to the floor. I ripped the jacket off my arms and crumpled it up before throwing it to the dusty floor. In an instant, I switched from calm and serene to filled with rage. With my bare foot, I twisted the windbreaker into the floor. Reaching behind me, I took the pickle jar and spilled its murky contents on the fabric mass before crashing the class to the ground with it. I looked up and felt surrounded by Emmett's influence. Sketches and photographs upon my bulletin board, I tore from their pushpins and let float to the floor. The poster I created of Emmett and I on the bike, I ripped in half, and then quarters, and the eighths until it was nothing more than a pile of paper. Mini sticker versions remained plastered to my wall, and first with my finger nails, and then with a pallet knife, I attempted to scrape them off. When only little pieces would come off, I yelled in frustration, and ran across the room for a paint can. Holding the short, but wide plastic canister against my side, I reached into the black liquid and covered the stickers up with handfuls of acrylic paint. Paint dripped down my hand as I stood back and watched the thin parts of the globs harden into dull black plastic.

"Bay...Bay?"

I looked out to the familiar voice, and Daphne was standing in the doorway waving her hands at me in an attempt to gain my attention. God knows how long she had been standing there. With my clean hand, I switched off the music, put down the paint, and reached for a towel. Her face looked panicked, and it looked as if she was crying.

"Yeah?"

"Where have you been?" she asked, "everyone's been looking for you."

"I've been here. I got a ride home with a friend," I lied, wiping paint off my hand. "You can tell everyone to relax."

"Haven't you heard? Do you even care?" Daphne spat.

"What are you even talking about?"

"Emmett. I'm talking about Emmett," she choked.

I stepped towards her, realizing this was bigger than just Emmett and I, "Daphne what's wrong?"

"He's hurt, Emmet's hurt. An SUV hit him and his bike," she sniffed. "He's on the way to the emergency room."

"_What?_"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: it hasn't even been a week since my first entry, but between Switched at Birth on Mondays and ASL class on Fridays, I'm inspired for this story all the time. I'm really happy with all the positive feedback, thank you! By the way, in this story, any signing will be bolded unless otherwise stated, and it will be translated to spoken/written English because they're both very different languages. Anyways, thank you for reading and enjoy!**

**Edit: I submitted this chapter much too quickly. It's mostly the same, but I decided to expand on the end. My apologizes. **

For a moment, despite my open jaw, I stopped breathing. Time suddenly stopped. Everything I had been feeling spiked off the radar to a completely new level. The breath I had been holding in, I let out in a puff as I shifted my gaze away from Daphne.

"We have to go," she said.

"Go _where_?"

"Your parents sent Toby and I out to look for you. Everyone's at the hospital."

"Yeah, so?"

"This is really serious, Bay," she said furrowing her eyebrows and leaning in closer.

"So you want me to drop everything for someone who didn't care enough about me to stop himself from sleeping with another girl?" I challenged.

"Simone was a mistake."

"I can't believe you're taking his side," I raged, throwing the paint-covered towel on the ground. "Oh wait, yes I can, because you're in _love_ with him. I forgot. Well then, you should be there to comfort him. I'm no longer in your way. Let me know how it works out." I turned away from Daphne and started to walk back into my studio with steam coming out my ears.

"They found his helmet twenty feet away in a ditch," she cried.

I stopped dead in my tracks and looked back at the slowly crumbling Daphne. "Okay," I gulped after a beat. "Okay, I'll come."

Wilke had dropped Daphne off home so she could take her car to search for me. However, I insisted on driving. Although I was probably just as upset as Daphne, I wasn't an emotional mess – on the outside at least. Inside was a battle between being mad at Emmett for what happened and being worried for what was happening. Driving helped; it made me focus on something that wasn't Emmett, but at the same time, I would space out and he was all I could think about. I felt guilty. Part of me wondered if I secretly wanted some sort of karma to take place, because it felt like revenge's sick cousin.

Daphne and I walked into the hospital's waiting room together, however, I felt like all eyes were on me. I realized how bad it looked on my part. Few knew the real situation, I was sure of that. Our family sat in clusters. Dad was comforting mom, and my biological mom was comforting a hunched over Melody. They were all there for the same reason, but at the same time, they seemed miles apart. Mom finally sprang from her seat and jogged over to Daphne and I, embracing me in her arms.

"Honey, we were so worried about you," she said pulling away. "What happened to your hand?"

"Paint. It's paint, mom, and I'm fine," I said.

"We thought you were with Emmett, so when we heard…"

"No, I…got a ride home from a friend," I lied, being sure to stay consistent with my story. "Mom, I'm fine. What about Em-"

"_You_."

Melody jumped from her seat upon looking up at me and kept that angered gaze as she stepped up to my face. "He was looking for you. This is your fault."

"I…"

Regina ran up and tapped her hand on her shoulder before signing as she spoke, "That's not fair. Bay didn't cause the accident, a drunk driver did."

"Drunk…driver?" Daphne repeated.

"I interpreted for Melody with the police," Regina said. "An SUV ran a stop sign and hit the side of Emmett's motorcycle."

Daphne let out a short gasp and covered her mouth, while I stood there emotionless, staring at the ground. Mom put her arm around me and rubbed my back, but I shooed her away. An image of an accident created only by my imagination played in my head – Emmett being thrown from his bike and laying lifeless in the middle of the street. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think of something else.

"They're supposed to update us every hour, but we know nothing yet," said Regina, shaking her head.

Mom led me over to where dad was sitting, in which they both tried to coax what happened out of me. I wasn't ready to talk about either Emmett situation; especially with them and especially while in the midst of it all where my feelings about him were sporadic. My brain wasn't a complete mess though. I knew for sure I'd be far more upset about the accident if Emmett hadn't admitted cheating hours prior. But then again, if he hadn't come clean, maybe I would have been on the bike with him, and my parents would be in the same situation as Melody. Or maybe we'd still be laughing, dancing, and kissing without my knowledge of his affair. Maybe I'd lose my virginity in his bed at his dad's house. Or maybe he had something more romantic planned if the night went in that direction. I couldn't tell you what would have been worse.

After about half an hour, a woman in blue scrubs and another in formal work attire approached Melody. I followed the women with my eyes from my slouched position before moving forward to the edge of the chair. The one in scrubs introduced herself as a nurse, and the other, and interpreter hired by the hospital, signed after her.

"Emmett's CAT scan showed a moderate to severe concussion. He's conscious which is a good sign, but we're going to keep him overnight in the ICU to keep him stable. The first twenty-four hours after head trauma are the most crucial, and we'll see the extent of the damage as he becomes more aware of what's happening."

"That's it? A concussion?" Melody asked.

"We're still assessing his less critical injuries, but we're expecting internal damage from impact. An X-ray will show us for sure, but we'll let you know as soon as we do."

Melody sighed, "thank you."

The hospital workers left, leaving more in the air than they cleared up. He was alive, that should have been enough for me, but it wasn't. I watched Melody sign something to Regina about wishing that they were honest with her and that more than anything she wanted to see her son. Despite being attacked by Emmett's mom for what happened, I couldn't imagine being in her situation - not that I excused her for it.

"How are you doing, sweetie?" Mom asked.

"Fine," I said sitting back in my chair.

"How about I get you some water, you look a little faint."

"Mom, I'm fine. Just _fine_. I just need to…find a bathroom. Yes, a bathroom to uh, refresh," I said, brewing a scheme as I spoke. "Daphne come with me."

"What?" she asked, only getting the gist of what I was saying.

I stood up and signed along as I spoke, "come with me to the bathroom."

Daphne nodded and followed me out of the waiting room. I led us around the corner where there happened to be a unisex bathroom, but I was more interested in the hospital map on the back wall. Hoping Daphne would just go along with it, I casually walked past the bathroom. However, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her stop walking.

"There's one right here," she said. "You don't need a map."

"We're not going to the bathroom," I said, turning around so she could read my lips.

"Where are we going then?" she asked, catching up to me.

"To find Emmett," I said, approaching the map and tracing it with my index finger.

"Are you crazy?"

"Don't you want to know if he's okay?

"Of course, but-"

"Well I need to know he's okay," I said, looking her dead in the eye. "I need to know he's okay so I can be mad at him again."

"How are we going to find him? Daphne asked after a pause.

"The ICU is only two floors up…if he's not there, I promise we'll come back down here, but I just need to try."

"Okay."

I couldn't believe what I was saying, begging Daphne to sneak upstairs with me to see the person whose face I ripped off the walls of my studio. It certainly wasn't out of love and devotion, but something stronger within me. Like somehow, seeing him would make me feel better. I couldn't explain it. Once the elevator door opened, I stepped out and started to look for Emmett's name. The doors were made of glass. I felt a tap at my shoulder and I looked back at Daphne.

"**We're not supposed to be here**."

Biting my lip, I looked around, "**We'll say we're lost.**"

I went back to walking down the hall, reading the names on the right side, and Daphne paralleled me on the left. About six doors down, Daphne stretched across the hall and tugged at my wrist. She pointed at the door and I followed her. We stood adjacent to each other in front of the glass door, looking into the room. Emmett laid flat on the bed in the middle of the room. He stared straight up at the ceiling, blinking every few seconds. Not that he had much of a choice - a brace surrounded his neck. The rest of his body was covered with a blanket, but wires extended from under the fabric. Wrapped around his head were bandages.I looked past Daphne and then down towards the elevator before slowly turning the knob on the door, expecting her to stop me. However, she followed me in and we stood against the door, except on the other side of it. Emmett noticed us, and his pupils shifted to the corners of his eyes. He looked confused, scared even.

"**Does he know who we are?**"

"**I don't know.**"

"B…B-ay?"

It was the first time Emmett had ever said my name. Only, it didn't feel like my name. It felt like he was calling out to some other Bay. I stared at him blankly, his slurred version of my name repeating in the back of my head like a broken record. Still looking at me from the corners of his eyes, he blinked slowly, and I single tear dripped down the side of this face. It was also the first time I had ever seen him cry. Compassion broke through the anger, and in the moment, I forgot all about his affair with Simone. I didn't see Emmett the cheater, I saw Emmett the broken.

Taking a step forward, I got down on my knees next to the bed, which came to about the middle of my chest, "**I'm right here**".

"Bay?" Daphne called after a few minutes. "Bay, we have to go."

"What? _Why_?"

"John and Kathryn want to leave. My mom is staying here with Melody," she said, reading off her phone.

"I-I'm not leaving."

"It's a fluke. We're not even supposed to be with him."

"I..."

"There's nothing else we can do," she said. "We might as well go home."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm a busy woman, I told you that fast update was a fluke. Midterms are almost over so I'll try to work on that. Thank you so much for the support for this story, I really do enjoy writing it. Anyways, I'm off to watch the season finale. See you next update!**

I got little to no sleep that night. The time between midnight and dawn was a blur. All I remembered was going straight upstairs, sloppily wiping my eye makeup away with my hands, and collapsing on top of the covers. After an hour of screaming and crying into my comforter, any ounce of fatigue was flushed away with frustration. I laid curled up in bed until the sun started to come up. By then I could have gotten under the covers and fallen asleep, but despite both mental and physical exhaustion, it felt unnecessary. Still in my dress, I shifted from the rut in my bed before sitting up. It was 7:04am. My neck and shoulders ached from the position I laid in all night, and there were patterns on my skin from the material of the dress. Being much too lazy to put out the effort to change into something more comfortable, I just threw a sweater over my almost bare shoulders.

The house was still, but it wouldn't stay that way for long. Ever since mom got that book published, she developed a kick for early rising. I moseyed down the stairs to the kitchen. Coffee was dripping. I froze at the last step, prepared to retreat to avoid confrontation, but it was only a self-timer. Once it was done brewing, I went ahead and poured myself a cup. I wasn't much for the taste, with fancy creamer it was okay, but I adored the smell. Plus it would erase the side-effects of my restless night. I took my mug outside to the inlet where I sat down on the one and only step. The sky was already overcast, but a few rays of sun escaped though the clouds, casting soft shadows over the front yard. No one would bother me here. I hunched forward, resting my cup on my knee and my chin in my hand. Every time the morning air summoned bumps, I took a gulp of the bitter liquid in my mug, and like magic they would disappear. The warmth filled me, and shortly I'd forget the events that led me to sitting alone outside in the dress I wore the night before.

For a moment, I closed my eyes, only to reopen them to the sound of footsteps. Sporting pajamas and tennis shoes, Daphne walked across the driveway between my house and hers. I looked up at her and straightened my back as she drew closer.

"Hey," she said, raising a hand in salutation and pursing her lips together.

"Hi…" I trailed of, suddenly becoming self-conscious about my appearance.

"Do you want to know about Emmett?"

I looked up at her and nodded solemnly.

"He's in a lot of pain, but he's going to be alright…a dislocated shoulder, open elbow fracture, broken ribs, shattered kneecap, broken hand-"

"Whoa, whoa, I thought you said he was okay," I said, standing up to her level.

"It could have been a lot worse, Bay. He's lucky to be alive," she snapped.

I sucked in my lips, "okay. Thanks."

"Sorry," she sighed, circling her fist to her chest. "I was up all night, I couldn't sleep."

"At least you changed," I said, grasping a piece of dress between my thumb and pointer finger.

Daphne half smiled, but her face quickly dropped, and in an instant, it looked as if she was going to cry.

"There's coffee inside," I shrugged.

She blinked slowly with a few short nods, and I walked with her to the kitchen. There was less coffee than I remember leaving, the house was awake, but with Daphne with me, I felt more at ease about possibly facing confrontation. Finishing off the pot, I poured her a cup, and she took a sip without diluting it with cream or sugar. She was definitely my father's daughter.

"So, what do we do now?" I asked once Daphne brought the mug away from her face.

"What do you mean?" she questioned, furrowing her brow.

"Emmett. Do we just…go on about our lives? Pretend nothing happened? Because I'm still mad, and him being in the hospital doesn't change that…despite what you saw in the ICU."

Daphne bit her lip, "I thought about visiting today."

"Let me come with you," I quickly said.

"You're going to yell at him. I know you still care about Emmett, and that's the last thing he needs right now."

"_Whose side are you on_?"

"No one's!"

We stood in silence for a few minutes, avoiding each other's gaze before I placed my mug on the counter, folded my arms and stood my ground completely facing her, "I just want to see him. I was up all night too – worrying about him. He's never said my name before, I've only heard him talk three times, and that bothered me so much because he called out to me in the way he's least comfortable and-"

"You're talking too fast...fine, fine," she said, putting her hands up.

Visiting hours were from 9am to 9pm, so we had time to spare. I took a long, hot shower to compose myself and picked at the breakfast mom had made to make me feel better. She wanted me to talk, but we both knew that wasn't going to happen. Especially because Daphne, my saving grace, knocked at the door as soon as my mom worked up the courage to bring up last night. I was gone in a flash. A portion of the ride to the hospital was driven on the road Steve took to take me home. I suddenly remembered the flashing lights of the ambulance speeding in the opposite direction like a recollection portrayed in the movies. My stomach sunk into my gut. I had no evidence backing it up, but something told me that ambulance was racing for Emmett. Over a dozen accidents probably happened that day, but somehow I knew.

Getting to Emmett the second time around was easier. Daphne and I signed in at the front desk and they told us exactly where he was. Fifth floor, third room to the right. No sneaking around, though I was completely willing to do it again.

I made Daphne open the door, and I followed her in. She walked straight to the middle of the room, right to the edge of his bed while I stood with my back against the closed door. Emmett was propped up against a stack of pillows. The bandage wrapped around his head was replaced with stitches along the left side of his forehead. The neck brace was gone. Across his chest was a sling that held his left arm, and around his right hand was a cast that stopped half away up his forearm. It wasn't a shock, but what I hadn't realized when Daphne told me the extent of his injuries is that he couldn't sign.

"**How are you doing**?"

"**Ok**," he fingerspelt with his free hand in the sling.

"**You can't sign**…"

"**I can a little**."

Daphne started to raise her hands, but then dropped them to her sides. Instead she took a step forward to perch herself on the edge of the bed and threw her arms around him. I shifted my gaze, feeling like a third wheel. When I looked back, Daphne was standing up, and Emmett's head was tilted to look around her – straight at me with a smile. I locked eyes with him, nothing more, and continued to keep my arms folded against my chest.

"I'll…go," Daphne said, turning for the door.

I gave her a look and she shot me one right back, but ultimately, I moved aside so she could leave the room. However, once the door shut, I returned to my spot.

"**I'm surprised you're back**."

"Me too."

"**But I'm glad you are.**"

"Me too," I sighed.

He laid and I stood in silence. I had nothing to say but everything on my mind, and I was torn between ranting about how mad I was at him and how relieved I was that he was okay; so I held my tongue.

"**You looked beautiful last night**."

"You think you can just butter me up with sweet talk? You think I'm just going to forgive you because you're hurt? It doesn't work that way, Emmett. If you think I'm so great, why did you cheat on me? How could you cheat on me? Because you were mad I was sending E-mails to Ty? Is that why you did it? What perfect sense. I can't even believe you, or me. I hate you and yet I'm here. You hurt me and I hitch hiked my way home, I destroyed every trace of you, but yet I'm still here," I cried, my emotions rising and my signing crumbling.

"**I'm sorry**."

"You're sorry? That's it?"

He looked down at his arms, **"sorry is the best I can do right now.** **I hate me too**."

I bit my lip and looked down at the ground. Tears rolled off my cheeks and dripped onto the floor.

"**But I love you**, **and I won't give up on us**."

"I don't know how I feel."

"**You just told me**."

"But I care about you. That's why I'm here. I was so scared, Emmett. But I hate you."

"**You don't have to know. Just sit with me. Please.**"

"Okay," I sniffed.

I pulled up the only chair next to the bed and sat down. Turning his head, he reached his right casted hand out and covered my own that was gripped to the armrest. I slowly closed my eyes and shook my head. He retracted his hand and faced forward. Nothing else needed to be said.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N I've been procrastinating studying for finals to finish this because it's been a month and that's just terrible. Thank you for your patience! **

I didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing I recalled was watching TV with Emmett; the subtitles on for his sake, and the sound on for mine. I was lounged in the visitor chair with my legs over the armrest and my head rested in the palm of my hand. Occasionally, I would discretely glance over and check on Emmett. If we caught glances, I quickly looked away, but if I caught him off-guard, I'd let my eyes linger before returning my attention to the television. It wasn't particularly comfortable, I think I was just exhausted, and if I hadn't fallen asleep, I definitely wouldn't have stayed as long. I looked down at my torso. A blanket was draped over my body that wasn't there before. It was the one from his bed. I wouldn't call it a smile, but my face changed from its blank and sleepy expression as I played with the fabric between my thumb and forefinger.

Emmett cleared his throat behind me. I snapped my head back to follow the sound. Instead of words, his mouth formed a grin. He pointed at me, and that was the most I got out of his signing. With the cast around most of his right hand and a sling limiting the movement of his left, interpretation was more of a guessing game; one I wasn't up for.

"Hang on, hang on, I just woke up."

He let out a chuckle, "**exactly**".

"Oh," I trailed off, sliding my legs off the armrest one by one. The blanket fell into a pile in my lap. "How long was I asleep?"

"**A couple hours**."

"Is Daphne still here?"

"**No. I told her to let you sleep**."

"Great," I muttered, subtly rolling my eyes.

"**You don't have to stay. Go home.**"

"Y-yeah, I think I'll do that," I said, standing up, leaving the blanket in my place.

"**That's fine**," he signed. "**But please fix my pillows before you leave. My back is hurting.**"

Closing my eyes, I ran a hand through my curls with a nod. With a strained look on his face, Emmett slowly leaned forward, and I timidly reached behind him for one of the distorted pillows. His back was visible though the loosely tied hospital gown, but just barely because of gauze bandages. Soaked though the cotton fibers were patches of dried blood. I stared at the injuries in shock as I gradually brought my palm to his shoulder blade, over one of the bandages. Heat radiated under my palm. Taking a deep breath, Emmett looked back at me with sad eyes, and we caught glances.

"D-does it hurt?"

He blinked slowly and nodded.

For the first time since the accident, I was close enough to see the extent of the damage. Stitches, pulling bruised skin together over his eye. The same dark patches along his collar bones that I assumed traveled down his side. How tightly bound his left elbow was to prevent movement, and same for his right hand. His leg, hidden during our first encounter by a blanket as supported around the knee by iron rods and plaster. Cuts and scrapes as abundant as freckles. If I hadn't disappeared, or even if I stayed longer, Emmett wouldn't have gotten hurt. The car at hit him would have been long gone.

"This is my fault," I whispered to myself.

"**Bullshit."**

I forgot he could read lips. "You were looking for me. That's what your mom said."

"**Karma hurt me the way I hurt you.**"

"You didn't deserve this," I said wholeheartedly, sitting on the edge of his bed. "What you did was wrong but, but Emmett you could have...what's the sign for death?"

He pursed his lips and looked to the side before positioning his hands, one palm up, one palm down, and flipping them over.

"You could have died. Cheating isn't equal to death."

"**Does that mean you'll forgive me?**"

"I don't know."

"**One day at a time?**"

"**One day at a time**," I copied.

Emmett grinned and I flashed a small smile back in return. Forgiving him wasn't going to be easy, and he knew that. I may have been comforting, sitting on his bed, hand on his back, but yesterday he confessed to cheating, and that wasn't going to be soon forgotten. The circumstances changed everything. If the accident hadn't happened, we wouldn't be this close.

His cheerful demise quickly inverted. Closing his eyes, his whole face tensed up, and he tucked his chin into his chest with a pained noise from his throat.

"A-are you okay? Should I get like a doctor or something?" I asked, patting his shoulder to keep his attention.

"**I'm fine**,"

"Emmett what was that?"

"**My head. They said I hit it badly. Moderate concussion**," he signed, gradually sitting up straight.

"You don't remember?"

He looked up at the ceiling, "**Someone said they saw you walk down the road, so I went looking for you. I remember seeing a bright light out of the corner of my eye…then nothing. Next thing I know, I'm here. They said my memory might clear up, but I don't want to remember.**"

I had the urge to hug him, lay my head on his shoulder and wrap my arms around him; avoiding the bandages and bruises carefully. Just in spite of everything he has been though - not because I wanted to give him a second chance or make up. I didn't want that, not yet. I bit my lip and took my hand back and joined it with the other in my lap. He caught my glance and I avoided it with a small sigh.

"Don't read into this okay?"

Turning my body in, I leaned forward, and brought my arms around his torso. I closed my eyes after a few seconds, he put is good arm around my waist, and it was okay.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I wrote most of this during that marathon on ABC family. The premier really sparked the plot bunnies. Bye for now, and thanks for reading!**

As the shock of Emmett's accident wore off, I visited with him less and less. The distinction between Emmett and trauma patient and Emmett the cheater became clearer. If he had made it home safely, I wouldn't have voluntarily spent a second with him. It took me a few nights to realize he's not my responsibility, not my boyfriend, and I shouldn't feel obligated to see him. Emmett cheated against me, and the accident almost made me forget that. Daphne, however, continued visiting him; making it apart of her daily routine. Meanwhile, I spent my time cleaning up my art studio from my post-prom rampage. Some of the damage was irreversible, but I kind of liked the paint splatters on the wall, it made the place look less polished. Picking up paintbrushes and sweeping up glass was more of the game plan. I disposed of the battered mess that was Emmett's jacket. It was still damp , and a hidden shard of glass cut the inside of my hand. Art imitates life. Blood oozed from the wound and I quickly brought one of my painting rags to the flesh.

There was a knock on the aluminum, "Bay?"

I turned my head, and my body followed. Daphne stood in the doorway with keys in her hand.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked, hiding my injured hand behind my back.

"I'm gonna go see Emmett. You want to come?"

"No…no, I'm busy, sorry," I said avoiding eye contact.

"Why don't you visit him anymore? He misses you."

"That's his problem."

"He said you two were trying to make it work."

"That's the opposite of what's happening."

"You should probably tell him that. He says everything's okay."

I sighed and rolled my eyes, "I said we'd take things one day at a time…and we hugged…_but I told him not to read into it and that I didn't forgive him_."

"That's mixed messaging and that's unfair."

"So now _I'm_being unfair to _him_?"

"No, I-"

"You should probably go," I said waving my hand towards the door. "The hospital hours are weird."

"Fine, whatever, Bay," she said throwing up her hands. "I'm gone."

Daphne stormed to her car and drove off. Once she was out of sight, I pulled my hand from behind my back. Blood had seeped through the rag, over the dirt and paint. I pealed the fabric away, the cut appeared to have clotted. It stung, but it didn't look so bad with the blood all gone. Still, I went inside to wrap a bandage around my hand before returning to the garage…as cool as an effect bloody hand prints would be. I returned to cleaning. This time, I stayed away from broken glass and picked up papers off the floor instead. My floor was like a gallery of Emmett's photography. I wanted to throw it all away, but most of everything he gave me were original film prints, and as a fellow artist, it felt wrong to just trash them. I stuffed them inside an art history book, even the ones of us.

Once I was done for the day, I went straight to my room to take a nap; just to take a break from everything. I decided that I'd give the whole studio a makeover – eventually. Maybe give it a more edgy, grudge looking feel to match the paint. It was also an excuse for not visiting Emmett. I couldn't believe he thought we were okay, and then went on to tell Daphne. It was none of her business, one, and two; I thought I had been perfectly clear with him. How could I have made, 'I don't know if I'll forgive you' any clearer? The situation was frustrating enough as it was.

When I woke up, my bedroom was pitch dark. I slowly raised my head from my pillow and reached over to turn on the table lamp next to my bed with a yawn. Using the same reach, I tilted my phone vertical so I could check the time. 10:30pm. My sleep schedule hit an all-time low. I brought my phone closer to investigate a missed phone call. It was from Emmett's phone, which was weird, because he never just called me; phone calls was impractical. It was from less than a minute ago. Although I didn't remember hearing my phone ring, it must have been what woke me up. There was also a text message from Emmett marked a few hours earlier:

_Would you answer if I video called you?_

_-Probably not._

_Why not?  
Please?_

I turned over my phone, returned it to the nightstand, and closed my eyes. Minutes later, it started to vibrate against the table, and the ring for FaceTime bounced against the walls. With a groan, I pulled a pillow over my head, but the ringing continued. I ignored it until I couldn't anymore. I took back my phone and aggressively pressed the accept button. His phone appeared to be set up on a tray table across his lap.

"What do you want?"

"**Why are you mad at me?**"

"Where should I begin?"

"**I don't understand**."

"Nevermind."

"**No, tell me**."

"You're not forgiven, you know."

"**I know**."

"Daphne says otherwise."

"**She takes my signs too literally. The other day I tried to ask for a bagel from the cafeteria, and she thought I signed family**," he signed with a chuckle, shaking his head.

"So you don't think we're back together."

"**No**."

"Oh…uh, sorry for attacking you…"

He shrugged, "**it's okay**".

"So – was there a reason you called?"

"**I'm starting to remember the accident. I had this flashback while I was watching TV. It stops after I get it, but I remember turning my head and looking into headlights. SUV, red I think**."

"My mom…Regina, said it was an SUV."

"**I'd hate to see the other guy**," he smirked.

I let out a small chuckle and tilted my chin down. When I looked back up at the screen, Emmett was grinning back at me. Little wrinkles had formed around the stitches over his eyebrow. Nothing was said or signed, we just looked at each other. I noticed the five o'clock shadow and how un-kept his curls were. Blinking rapidly, I snapped out of my trance, refocused my gaze, and ran my hand though a small section of my hair. There was a tap at the screen.

"**What happened to your hand**?"

"Uh I…dropped a plate and cut my hand trying to clean it up," I said, looking into my palm.

"**Still bleeding?**" he yawned.

"Just oozing a little."

"**You should get it looked at**."

"It's just a little scratch, really."

"_Bay?_" dad called from downstairs.

"I'll be right back."

Emmett nodded, and I escaped my bed, leaving my phone on top of the covers. I went down the stairs and met my dad at the bottom. Apparently, I left the light on in the garage, and we're an _energy efficient family_. I reluctantly slid on a pair of sneakers and walked across the asphalt to the garage, opened the door, and flicked the lights off with one swoop. It was so easy, I didn't understand why my father couldn't know walk outside himself; probably something about being responsible.

When I returned to my room, I sat down on the bed and picked up my phone, "hey, I'm back."

His eyes were closed and head slouched towards his right shoulder.

"Emmett, hey I- you can't hear me," I said, now speaking to myself. "Alright…well…uh…goodnight I lov-…shit."

Old habits die hard.


End file.
